


For If Dreams Die

by WhatEvenAmI



Series: Beware the Killer Rabbits [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Animal Instincts, Biting, Brainwashing, Dominance, HYDRA Trash Party, HYDRA wins, Hand Feeding, Intercrural Sex, Licking, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Naked Cuddling, Not Happy, Protective Steve, Protective Steve Rogers, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Restraints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/pseuds/WhatEvenAmI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter and Summer Soldiers have been brought into SHIELD custody.</p><p>Failing recovery, perhaps they can become a more docile sort of pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And In a Flash They're Gone

**Author's Note:**

> An AU of ravenously's [Pierce's Pets](http://archiveofourown.org/series/259453) series, in which Bucky and Steve have been rescued and struggle with recovery.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If you'd asked her what she was prepared to do for SHIELD when she was a new recruit, Laila would have stood ramrod-straight with a gleam of pride in her eyes and said, "Anything."_
> 
> _She would never have imagined this._

The kitchen is dimly lit by fake candles. Real flame would never be allowed, and the  _occupants_ of this Secure Facility are often agitated by bright lights.

Laila stands at her place at the table, forcing a bright smile and sunny voice that fade dimmer at each passing meal. When she first joined SHIELD, she'd never thought she was signing up for this.

But SHIELD wasn't supposed to be HYDRA.

The occupants are not restrained. It's been a tense day, but they've been good.

If you'd asked her what she was prepared to do for SHIELD when she was a new recruit, Laila would have stood ramrod-straight with a gleam of pride in her eyes and said, "Anything." She would not have imagined that would include sheltering the ruined shells of her former idols from the totalitarian hellscape the above world has become.

When the occupants were first brought to Secure Facility 509, Laila hadn't thought she'd be up to the task. She was chosen for her continued religious practices despite their apparent futility. Similar practices had been shared by Captain Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes so long ago, and it was thought that she might be able to help them heal. But she knows better. Ritual and rite, rote words and worship. It all hits a little too close to what the former Secretary made of them.

There was only speculation in the reports she read after Alexander Pierce was finally captured and his... _prizes_ recovered by SHIELD. They'd each been chained by their throats to his bed, or no one could have gotten close to Pierce.

They'd been brought in as they had been found, naked and in chains, hands locked behind their backs and heavy metal links around their throats, beginning to break free of the tranq-induced stupor that had been required to remove them from Pierce's home. Nothing could have prepared her for the skulking imitations of her former idols, bruised and pallid, eyeing each other in befuddled agitation. Barnes's nostrils were flaring and Rogers was taut throughout his body.

They hadn't even been uncuffed when something had snapped. Barnes stared at Rogers a fraction of a second too long and Rogers  _growled_ and launched himself forward. Hands behind his back, he'd still taken Barnes to the ground, catching his hair in his teeth. He'd planted a knee between Barnes's legs, straddling his thigh, an unspoken threat. He'd snarled and snapped, biting viciously at Barnes's shoulders and neck and yanking at his hair until Barnes whined in submission and bared his throat, eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling above.

Both bore rock-hard erections by the time they managed to pull Rogers away, but it hadn't exactly been an act born of passion. That had been a display of dominance. Rogers had come up with his mouth bloodied and an unyielding glare on his formerly-puzzled face, and he'd thrust himself against Barnes a few more times to establish his triumph. Laila will never get the image out of her mind as long as she lives.

Constantly running interference between these two, that may not be much longer. 

Each currently appears docile, though Laila has learned to read the tension written in each and every muscle. They're calming themselves now, their heads bent in prayer as they only too recently bent in worship to Alexander Pierce. Rogers's expression is as fervent as it looked in the history books she pored over in grade school. Barnes ducks his head lower, hair hiding his face.

"For the food we are about to receive, Lord, we are truly thankful." Laila finishes the words taught to her at the table in her parents' home, where she ate side-by-side with her brother and sister, laughing and joking and sneaking her vegetables to the dog.

In unison, the occupants mouth it along with her. It is the only indication that they recognize any sort of language. Though no longer muzzled, the occupants don't speak.

Laila murmurs, _"Amen,"_ and tries not to envision their eager lips forming the wordless shape against the tip of Pierce's cock.

Though they've said grace, Gavin and Laila don't get to eat just yet. It would be unwise to let the occupants grow too impatient.

Gavin stands at Rogers's side and she gets Barnes. It's important to ensure that both receive exactly equal treatment or the burning glares of envy and resentment will begin to pierce through the darkness.

Yeah, Laila's probably gonna end up dead before the year is out. She never envisioned spending her life preventing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes from murdering one another in white-hot blank rage.

She and Gavin meet each others' gaze, lifting pieces of steak in tandem. Two Soldiers lean forward, two sets of lips brush over palms to swallow the offering. Laila would never admit it aloud, but she prefers attending to Barnes. He has the softest, pinkest lips and he pokes the tip of his tongue against her palm, searching for traces of steak sauce. It's quite a practiced tongue, Laila can tell.

Her low murmuring mingles with Gavin's in the otherwise silent kitchen. Each agent strokes their charge's hair with their free hand. In this, again, Laila prefers Barnes. His hair is long and shiny and soft, but she can't pet it for too long or Rogers will be jealous. She lets her hand linger against Barnes's head, and he pushes against the touch like a cat.

The Soldiers would be perfectly capable of feeding themselves, of course, but this is what they need. They crave care and affection like Laila craves freedom. And they'd rip each other apart while vying for their share if Laila and Gavin didn't sufficiently attend to them.

Before Secure Unit 509 learned to give them what they needed, they were literally at each others' throats day in and day out. Once, while she read on the couch, Rogers had come to kneel at her feet, fixing her with an intense and unwavering gaze. Apprehensively, she had done her best to ignore him, but he'd leaned closer, examining her calves as though in wonder, and it had felt benignly strange and almost sweet. She'd met his eyes and smiled.

And that had done it. Barnes had charged into the room on all fours with his head lowered and tackled Rogers to the floor, rolling him away from her. He'd left his counterpart bloodied and torn and slithered his way into her lap, an oversized house cat, with red dripping down the shiny metal and pale sunless flesh.

So now Gavin and Laila stand in attendance, hand-feeding the occupants the sort of attention that the Secretary had made each one earn at the expense of the other. They're more pliant now from several rounds of calming drugs and a month's worth of built-in habit. They're growing well-fed, not quite so starved; they've begun to go from feral beasts to some sort of particularly disturbing lap pets. 

Laila cups her hand at the base of Barnes's skull, guiding him to the next waiting bite of steak. That practiced tongue slides in and around her fingers, sucking and licking for every last drop of juice, every hint of flavor. His lips move against her palm, slowly and contentedly forming the word.

_Amen._


	2. And Pebbles Remain Where Once a Mountain Stood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Laila despairs of ever restoring Rogers and Barnes, but then, perhaps it's for the best._

Rogers stands in Barnes's doorway.

Gavin was supposed to be on duty, but apparently he dropped the ball today. Laila reaches for her tranq gun; the occupants react to a perceived infringement on their territory with swift and implacable violence, the instinct to hold what's theirs winning out over any order Laila's team can give.

These occupants—who were once two halves of a whole, as men and as Soldiers—can no longer inhabit the same bedroom without one killing the other.

Laila despairs of ever restoring Rogers and Barnes, but then, perhaps it's for the best. The world they dreamed of has been burned to the ground, and everyone they held dear is gone. Some were lost to the passage of time. Others were brutally cut down by the Soldiers themselves. No, it would not be kind to drag them back from the dead yet again.

Not that Coulson hasn't been pushing her to try.

Laila creeps down the hall as carefully as she can, but Rogers tenses all the same. There's no sneaking up on him; without looking, he knows she's there. 

He is not clothed, often neglecting the garments that Laila's team has set aside for him. He stands fully alert, body taut and naked, lithe and perfect. Barnes tore up his back and thighs not even a week ago, and his skin is a scape of unmarred white once more. Like blank paper calling to an artist, Laila can't help but think, to be drawn over again and again and again.

Rogers is uncharacteristically hesitant; it's more like the other one to test the waters before crossing lines. He sets one foot in the door, holding Barnes's stare. Barnes gazes back intently, body tense, but does not rise from his place on the bed. He's naked as well, less out of defiance toward the customs of his new perceived masters and more from the lack of understanding. It seems that he has forgotten how to clothe himself on his own; the Secretary must have dressed him as needed.

Rogers steps fully into the room, staring down at Barnes, who growls low in his throat but holds still. Rogers advances in slow, fluid motion, standing over the bed.

In the time it takes him to get there he has become nearly fully erect. Laila braces herself; in these power plays, one will often try to claim the other as a prize.

But when Rogers reaches out, it's only to lay a large strong hand on Barnes's head. And Barnes holds still, eyes wide, mouth parting slightly. Laila braces herself for the teeth to come out.

Barnes allows Rogers to push him, face down, to the mattress.

Those strong hands trace over his broad, scarred back. Rogers carefully straddles Barnes's thighs, rubbing his cock between his ass cheeks. Easy, gentle. For now.

Laila's heart races. Her finger slides off the trigger of the tranquilizer.

Rogers does not attempt to penetrate Barnes, not this time. Instead, he positions his length between Barnes's thighs, guiding them tighter together with his own legs. He wraps his arms around Barnes, pinning him down, and Barnes relaxes and allows Rogers to rest his chin over his shoulder, licking and nibbling at his neck and ears.

Rogers grunts and begins to undulate, slowly pushing in between Barnes's clamped legs. Laila stares, transfixed, gun hanging loose at her side, watching Rogers's ass rise and plunge. Barnes begins to moan, and Rogers squeezes his arms securely at his sides, holding him in place. He picks up speed, the muscles in his thighs rippling with each thrust.

Barnes lets out a string of soft little noises, wriggling his hips from side to side. He's grinding himself against the mattress, and it doesn't take long for Rogers to realize why.

All at once he's back on his knees, yanking a pliant Barnes up against him. Barnes has grown hard, and Rogers guides his hands to his own erection. Thrusting forward, he yanks Barnes back against him and against him and against him, nuzzling his neck, panting into his shoulder. Once Barnes understands where his hands are to stay, Rogers's own hands begin to roam, grabbing and kneading the tensed abs and scarred chest, though still gripping Barnes's upper arms tight with his own.

Grunting and gasping, Rogers begins to thrust more deliberately, his thighs shaking. Both are breathing heavily now, moving in powerful rhythm with complete unselfconsciousness. 

Rogers lets out a long, soft moan, and his seed spills down the inside of Barnes's thighs. Eyes alight in satisfaction, he works his hands back to Barnes's erection, and within a minute Barnes's mess coats his own metal fingers. 

Laila's tranq gun is all but forgotten in her wonder at the pure force behind this display. 

Rogers sits back on the bed, pulling Barnes into his lap and holding him tight. Barnes makes no effort to get away; he melts against Roger's chest with a sigh, head tipped back onto his shoulder. Rogers is still licking at his ears and neck as though he is grooming the other Soldier, but soon his mouth begins to roam. Almost reverently, he starts nuzzling and lapping his way down the metal arm, cleaning it up with his lips and tongue. Barnes closes his eyes in utter enjoyment. His lips twitch a little, and God, he's  _purring._

Despite herself, Laila feels her heart melt at the sound. She finds herself stepping forward and—

And Rogers is whipping his head up, _snarling_ and pulling Barnes closer. Laila can easily read the expression on his face:  _Mine._

She freezes. Rogers stares her down with a very familiar sort of fire in his eyes. Hands up, she slowly backs away.

Rogers goes back to lapping at Barnes, positioning him so that he can lick at the places still in need of cleaning. He carefully supports the metal shoulder and lifts Barnes's leg, dipping his head toward his lap. Laila watches him running his tongue along Barnes's calves and thighs, right up into his crotch, with more tenderness than Laila would have thought he possessed. His lips suck at the last remaining drops clinging to the tip of Barnes's cock.

Laila will never, as long as she lives, burn this image from her mind.

Rogers goes back to nuzzling Barnes's face and neck, biting playfully at his hair and combing through it with his fingers. Seemingly content to be lavished with affection, Barnes's eyes begin to fall shut once again.

Satisfied that Barnes is now marked as his, Rogers curls around him on the bed, narrowing his eyes whenever Laila tries to come near.

It's going to be time to go say grace soon. So much for saving the Soldiers with prayer and worship. Laila has a feeling that, regardless of Unit rules, dinner will be served in this room tonight.

She comes to the sudden understanding that without words, without fists and teeth, the unrelenting battle has ended once and for all. The occupants have danced wildly around each other for long enough. Fury and fear, protectiveness and dominance, the craving for affection and absolution: these things have played out in an instinct-driven understanding that transcends language. Dominant and submissive had claimed their roles from the moment Barnes allowed Rogers into the room.

Laila pretends she doesn't feel a pang at the thought that her days of feeding the two from her own hand have come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't seem to be satisfied with this no matter what. Posting it anyway...hope it's not terrible?


End file.
